


cocaine & blue eyes ★ kurt cobain

by fairyrot



Category: Nirvana (Band)
Genre: Bands, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugs, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Grunge, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kurt Cobain - Freeform, Nirvana (Band) References, Past Rape/Non-con, Punk Rock, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Smut, Songwriting, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyrot/pseuds/fairyrot
Summary: ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ♡ ⋆:° 𖤐⋆ ˚｡⋆under a bridge, a shared cigarette, a lighter sparks. but something else does too.━━ k. cobain.fanfiction. +15© fairyrotstarted  - march 2020finished - tbc
Comments: 11
Kudos: 8





	1. under the bridge

Alone. Kurt sat under the bridge, alone. Alone except for the smell of cat piss, a lighter and a packet of cigarettes.

Life seemed dull right now. He had nothing to do; weed helped numb out past problems but didn't stop them from coming his way.

The world was fucking bleak.

Kurt doubted that would ever change, his life was boring. He wanted to change. He just wasn't sure when it would come his way. If it _ever_ would.

A smoke was wriggled out of the packeted home and brought forth to a lighter. The previously white paper was now crinkling with fire, burning gently, a stark contrast to Kurt's internal monologue. He exhaled some smoke and buried his head into the crook of his arm. Words of nothingness flowed through his head, none of them useful enough to put together a coherent thought.

"Care to share?" a voice called out. British. Surprising since there were practically no British faces in America, let alone Aberdeen.

He turned to see a chestnut-haired girl, standing at the end of the tunnel. His heart stopped briefly. He stumbled out some words and interjections before stringing a sentence together. No one ever came down here, certainly not when he was around.

"Sure, why not. Share the cancer."

The packet was pointed towards the approaching figure, to which she drew a cigarette and sat down rather awkwardly and cross-legged next to him. She seemed strange. He contemplated offering a cigarette, but then threw the idea away as he watched the girl produce a lighter from the hem of her thigh high socks. Odd.

She lit the smoke, sparking the lighter several times. It seemed almost empty.

"Cheers," she mumbled, exhaling tendrils of smoke.

"No problem."

She looked at ease to be around someone she barely saw before. Neither did she talk much. Somewhat a blessing in disguise, Kurt wasn't an extrovert as such.

A few moments passed as they smoked in silence.

"So why are you here in shit-hole-city, also known as Aberdeen?" she asked rather loudly.

Outspoken yet silent - an interesting contradiction.

Kurt liked contradictions. They opposed logic and sensibility, he enjoyed quirks and contrasts. They made sense to him.

"I live here, but I plan on leaving soon. Maybe to Olympia, but that won't be for a year or two," he said at a slightly lower volume compared to the girl sat next to him.

She nodded slightly and took another drag, staring at the ground thoughtfully and pulsing the cigarette.

"I live here too, I want to leave. It's absolute dogshite here, rather like a cage. You get me?" the girl said. Her question wasn't one you couldn't really answer any other way than 'yes', which Kurt responded with.

"Yeah, I get that."

She glanced up at him with bright eyes, squinting slightly. The eyeliner that would have been applied in the morning was smudged along the tops of her cheeks. Who knows what would have ruined them.

"When you get out of here, where will you go? You gonna leave a mark in this world, or you gonna succumb to the inevitable capitalistic cycle of working till death is due?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the girls sudden confidence. "Uhm, I dunno. I want to make music I suppose - it's my escape from the world around me."

Her lips curled slightly. Not snarkily, but not necessarily happily. Nodding, she took another drag.

"What about you?" Kurt asked.

She didn't respond for a while. Silence filled the air.

"Why'd you care?" she asked. It wasn't rude. It was a pending question.

He cleared his throat. "I'm curious. You entice me. I want to know."

She licked her lips before smoking for a second again. "I want to have a band. Who knows if I'll get anywhere with it. I couldn't care less if I didn't. I just want to play to people who'll listen. Even if I won't go big, because, let's face it. _Who does want to go big?_ I don't think I could handle fame either; it's too overwhelming, too overdone."

She coughed slightly before sniffing. "That shall be my mark."

They sat in silence for a while before the girl stubbed out her now finished cigarette on the cold, wet concrete. She stared hard at him for a while.

"You interest me. You don't seem forward neither backward. It's odd. Quite like it if I say so myself. You're not overbearing."

He didn't respond with anything but looked solemnly at her.

A silent thank you perhaps, agreement.

"Goodbye stranger," she mumbled as she stood up, smoothed out her plaid skirt. "It was interesting to talk to you."

The girl began to walk away from the way she came.

Kurt almost felt sad to see her go. He cleared his throat slightly before croaking "What's your name? I'm Kurt Cobain."

She spun round to look at him, her face absorbing the light from the yellow glow of the setting sun.

"Morgan Williams. Call me Mor."

And with that, she sauntered off and away from the bridge, where Kurt now sat - alone.

*

Boredom once again struck at the most meaningless hour. It would eat away at Kurt when he was in a creative rut. After meeting Morgan under the bridge, Kurt was helpless to think about anything except her. He couldn't. She was like a maggot in his brain, eating away at the tissue.

He wanted to see her again. The problem being, he wasn't sure how.

Sitting crossed-legged on the bed, he pondered about ways to find her again. Nothing came to mind.

_'Fuck it; I'll never see her again.'_

With an exasperated sigh, he crawled off the bed to the floor and pottered towards the kitchen.

A Kraft Mac'n'Cheese box was grabbed, dents made in the cardboard from hungry fingers, was thrown on to the counter. A kettle was filled with water, clattering as it was slammed on the stove. The flickering of flames tickled the base of the kettle, with minutes later the pot whistled away angrily. Hissing water was poured into a pot, and a macaroni packet was torn open and shaken into it. They were stirred occasionally throughout a 5-8 minute period. Satisfied with their texture, they were drained and mixed with cheese powder, milk and butter. The macaroni squelched as it was hastily stirred. Soon enough, it was slapped into a bowl and eaten as soon as it touched the ceramic, a fork scraping down the inner sides of the bowl.

Food filled the gap. It did at least for an hour or two.

The bowl was placed near the sink and was abandoned.

As Kurt grabbed a pair of shoes and shoved them on his feet, he wondered where he might go. Mark Arm earlier this week said his band were performing downtown tonight.

So that was his sense of direction for tonight.

Trudging along the sidewalk, he turned towards the sunset. He always felt at peace in the sun. And he began to hum a small tune.

"In the sun, in the sun, I feel as one. In the sun, in the sun... married; buried."

He walked about 3 blocks before eventually standing outside the small club. His eyes slowly trailed upwards, staring intently at every beam, plank and slab of concrete. He exhaled through his nose and pushed the door open.

Inside, music was blaring from every angle, and a band was on stage. 'Mudhoney, TONIGHT, LIVE!' was written in bright red lettering on the poster wall. He ran a hand through his and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and sauntered over to the bar and stood awkwardly against the cold stone top.

Kurt cleared his throat. "One beer, please."

"Coming up," the bartender responded monotony.

"I second that," a female voice called beside him.

"Sure thing," he chuckled.

Kurt turned to his left, where the woman was standing and could not believe his eyes.

"So we meet again, stranger," smirked the girl. "Clearly, fate has marked for us to be together."

Kurt chuckled slightly. "My friend Mark, the frontman, said he was doing a show here tonight, and I had nothing better to do, I came along. I've played with these guys before actually. They're pretty neat. How'd you find out about the guys?"

"I had nothing better to do either. Thought it might do me some good to get out of four walls."

"It sometimes becomes a bit too much, doesn't it?" he spoke.

She smiled small. "Innit."

Their silence was filled by two pints of beer being placed in front of them.

"4.50," mumbled the bartender.

Morgan slid a fiver slowly over the countertop. "Keep the change," she said, arching an eyebrow.

Kurt took a long sip of the beer. It was better than expected, mainly because he only bought cheap cans.

Mor hadn't touched her beer yet. She just sat with her arms folded and leaned against the table. Deep in thought, she appeared to be. But what about?

Kurt studied her, the way she did her hair, her eyeliner, her blue eyes, to the bridge of her nose, the plump of her lips, the curve of her chin.

She looked up from the countertop to meet his gaze. "What are you all about? What's your life story? I want to know. You interest me."

"Ah, well, there's nothing to it. We've lived here in Aberdeen for pretty much our entire lives - my parents divorced when I was 8 or something. I live with my mom and sister, sometimes it's a drag, but I love my Lil' Kim a lot. She means a lot to me. I would've left this town if it weren't for her. My parents and grandparents and other relatives just kinda tossed me about. No one really wanted to keep me for more than a few months, so I just crash at my best-friends Krists' place."

She stared. "Sweet; off the rails. I like it."

Kurt smiled. "You like a lot of weird things I've noticed."

"I do. My life is rather simple, ironically. My mum and dad moved from Bristol here to Aberdeen, which is arguably worse. My mum cheated on my dad, my dad left, probably back to Bristol, because I last saw him at the airport when I was 14. I didn't know why he left, but I knew he wasn't coming back. My mums now an alcoholic, so, I look after her when I can. Other than that, I either do pills or some shit then go under that bridge. It's peaceful there."

"My favourite spot is actually where we met; under the bridge. It's calm and comforting," Kurt mumbled.

She cocked her head to one side. "I'm surprised we haven't met before then. I just write songs down there and get high with a friend or two, nothing major."

He grinned. "I never knew you wrote songs."

She smiled wryly. "Last time I checked, you didn't know I exist."

"Well, you always learn something new every day."

Their gazes met and lingered for a long time. Morgan cleared her throat.

"I have to go, er, check on my mum. She's getting better nowadays, which is good."

Kurt smiled. "Can I walk you home?"

"Lead the way stranger," she smirked.

The two walked out of the bar and chatted idly about the show and walked along the sidewalk towards Morgan's house, a few minutes away from Kurt's street.

She stopped abruptly before turning to face him. "Thanks."

"No problem."

She leaned in slightly near his ear and brushed the locks of his hair behind his ear. Her breath danced about on the shell of his ear.

"Goodbye, Kurt."

"Bye Morgan," he whispered.

Pulling back, she stormed across the street without a care and towards the front porch. Turning around and looked at Kurt a moment before disappearing into the depths of the house.

And that was the last Kurt saw of Morgan that day.


	2. a start

The click of the lock came from the door.

Closed.

Safety.

But if it was one she cared about or one the girl grew accustomed to was a complete different story.

One thing Morgan didn't admit to Kurt was her band. 'Pieces Apart' had started earlier that month and were going strong and building as a group well, making up riffs and recording covers.

Conflicted. Morgan felt conflicted. She felt different. A change was coming soon, it was in the air. Her mind reeled as she recalled the highlights from those hours spent with him.

Something prickled under her skin.

Time to write a song.

Morgan peeped round the corner of the porch to see her mother passed out on the sofa with several cans and wine bottles littering the floor.

Clinking of the bottles into the recycling. Tidying. A quick feather dust of the lamp, table and fluffing pillows. Tidiness. Completion.

The house was more in less back in order 15 minutes later after Morgan beat away the dust and scraped litter, cigarette butts and other shit that littered the small home.

She turned to see her mother.

She looked a lot less alone when her eyes were closed. She appeared to be in a deep slumber. It certainly wouldn't last long.

Her brother Josh crept downstairs. "I see you tidied."

She rolled her eyes. "Why didn't you fuckface?"

"I did it last time."

The girl sighed. "If only Kurt saw this," she mumbled under her breath.

"Who the fuck's 'Kurt' you dickhead?" asked her brother as he made himself a cheese sandwich.

"A lad I met just then. He's okay y'know."

Silence crept in again the only noises floating around were the snoring of the alcoholic wannabe maternal figure strewn across the sofa and the scratching of a knife on a chopping board.

Morgan ran a hand through her hair. "Should I tell him about my band?"

"Well yeah," he chuckled. "If it feels right, go ahead. You lot already sound kickass. You've got a fuckin' band, flaunt it. You're cool as shit, yeah? Imagine how good you'd be in like, a few years."

She smiled. "Yeah, that would be solid that."

"Now," he said as came over and gave her a side hug. "Don't do stupid shit because I'm not gonna help you out all the time."

"Cheers Josh," she rolled her eyes once more, squeezing him. He too, held her tight and kissed the top of her head.

"Shut up," he pulled away.

Mor grinned. "Love you Josh the boss."

He smiled too. "Love you too Mor the bore."

"Look, I've got a shift in 5 minutes that I'm probably gonna be late for, so stay safe. Don't wake the she-devil."

"Who would dare?" she smirked.

The door closed indicated that Josh was content with her response and had left.

She once again stared at her mother on the couch.

Her eyes glossed over. Sorrow wasn't something to swallow easily.

Or was it disappointment?

She crept upstairs to her room, closing the door slowly and spreading out like a starfish on the bed.

"What the _fuck_ am I doing?"

She rolled on her front and scribbled lyrics, the ink staining the page like blood.

Long before she knew, around an hour had passed.

Ring.

The phone.

She scrambled to pick it up before her mum would awake with a splitting headache and a fit of rage.

"Hello?"

"Hey Morgan, it's me, Shelli. You okay?"

A sigh of relief. Shelli.

"Yeah, I'm alright for now. I'm going ahead with my band though, I'm happy."

A squeal of approval came from the other end of the line. "I'm so happy for you! Move over bitches, I'm the number one groupie!"

The two shared a small laugh and continued to catch up for about 10 minutes before Mor stopped giggling and started to bite her lip.

"Hey, you've gone quiet. What is it?"

Mor croaked out a response. "I've met this boy, Kurt."

Shelli's breath hitched and went quiet. "Wait, Kurt Cobain? Shoulder length hair? Dirt blonde, smokes a shitton of cigarettes?"

"Yeah, that one," she exhaled.

"Morgan Williams. Damn girl, you grabbed yourself a good one. He's got a band with Krist and a guy named Chad. You should see them tonight, they're so good. Only been going for about 10 months. Kurt's rhythm guitar, he's got this brilliant voice. Chad drums and obviously Krist is on bass," she giggled slightly - Morgan could just picture her twirling her hair at the thought of her boyfriend. The two started dating in high school, which finished about three years ago.

"Class of 86. Checks out you two love birds."

It was currently 1989, and it was Mor's 20th soon. She strictly told Shelli to not organise a party because "Punk rock chicks don't have parties, they have heavy metal vomit parties."

Shelli now knew that Mor had a crush on Kurt. It added up to what Krist mentioned a few times about Kurt being over-obsessed with some girl.

A million-dollar idea popped into the small brunette's head as she drabbled into the phone. "Sorry Mor, I've just realised that I have to run some errands. I'll call soon!"

Morgan just sighed wearily and whispered goodbyes before hanging up the phone.

She sat down with a notebook in hand and began scribbling words that ebbed and flowed through her head. Not long after, the brown-haired girl glanced down at the wrecked notepad, scrawled with illegible sentences and arrows.

A song.

Not finished, but a start.

After what seemed like minutes, but were hours, she finally crashed. Something felt right.

Needless to say, Morgan slept well that evening.


	3. a melody of concision

Whilst Kurt was idly strumming a guitar, Krist was on a call with Shelli, both giggling and exchanging stories of what happened that week. But there was a small snippet of the conversation that grabbed his attention.

"Wait, she's coming?!" Krist exclaimed with excitement. "He's gonna be so stoked."

A faint mumbling on the other end indicated Shelli's response.

"Alright, my lips are sealed."

They exchanged goodbye's and put down the receiver.

"What was that about?" Kurt smirked.

Krist whipped round and had a panicked expression, his eyes search the room as well as an answer. "Nothing. It's... er... about Shelli's dad."

Kurt raised his eyebrow and looked up from the guitar. "I doubt that Shelli's dad is gonna be 'so stoked' about said event."

"It doesn't matter now. You'll see."

Kurt sighed. Ambiguous responses were not what he needed right now, so he went upstairs and began to fiddle with a puzzle to banish his boredom.

*

"Kurt? It's gig time, Chad's meeting us there."

"Hold up," the blond murmured as he stuck the last piece of the puzzle together. "Coming now."

They packed into the van and swiftly made it to the small venue. In the van, he rested his head on the door as it vibrated from moving. After what felt like seconds, he was shaken out of his world to a Krist holding out his hand, beckoning him towards a soundcheck. They turned up outside of a rather large suburban house, with Chad running in and out of the door with various drum parts and miscellany.

The dirt blonde boy sighed, got up out of his stupor, and grabbed his guitar, ambling up to the house. It was covered in dark wood panels and had a trimmed lawn, with the occasional potted plant underneath the windows. Inside was quite dark and musty, but Kurt liked it. The living room where Chad had set up his kit had a floral printed carpet and a few worn armchairs now moved into either the hallway or a corner. Amps and FX peddles and cables were strewn across the room soon to be organised by Chad and some sound tech from the local scene.

Kurt took it to himself to explore the surroundings and started by wandering upstairs. A guest room and master suite greeted him at the top of the stairs and turning right was a small bathroom and a little boys room. He poked his head around the thin door and looked around him. He felt strangely safe here, rather homely. There were books lined on shelves along with trinkets and photo frames of family members.

 _'They needed a bit of a dust,'_ thought Kurt.

He moved slowly around the edges of the room, staring up at the walls. A small desk sat in the corner with a notepad and scattered crayons around it. He peered over and picked up the pad carefully, flipping over the cover. Inside were small comic strip adventures of a cat and mouse, except the mouse chased the cat. He smiled slightly to himself as he flipped through the notepad and found small well-drawn sketches of several characters. He set the paper down to its place and crept downstairs and into the nearby woods.

Kurt would have a moment where he felt like everything was too much, and had to lie down. He would look up and see the blue, or the black, or the grey, and get lost in it. He felt free. Innocent. Like a dog or something. His stomach pains would strike away randomly which he needed to get some meds, but was too scared to buy some incase he takes too much and overdoses.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, exhaling a plume of smoke. The first thing on his mind was Morgan. He was absolutely infatuated with her. She's always on his mind, maybe at the front or at the back, but she never left. She was like Tinkerbell sitting on his shoulder. He whipped out a piece of paper and pen and started to write some more lyrics to his little idea snippet of, "in the sun I feel as one".

He pondered and wracked his brain for anything.

Anything at all.

Only for nothing.

He let out a cry of frustration, slapping the pen and paper on to the mossy ground and stomping out his finished cigarette. He was about to storm back to the house when something struck him.

He ran back and sat down again and ripped off the burnt paper, starting to pen lyrics. He finished within half an hour.

And so came about the song, 'Blew'.

*

"Fucks sake," sighed Morgan.

Band practice was a mind-field. Something that seemed so simple was ironically complex - it was key to have a balance of things. This was not a strong point of Morgan, but she did her best. Throwing cables and shoving amps left and right in Adam's garage was the groups past time. His parents being wannabe stoners helped; the noise didn't faze them.

Morgan grabbed her telecaster from the floor near a nearby amp and threw the strap around her neck, strumming her fingernails across the metal strings on her guitar, getting loud feedback from the amp signalling that it was up and running.

"What are we gonna cover?" asked Adam, juggling drumsticks at the back of the room. Lewis was tuning his guitar with Eliza, who was fiddling with knobs and switches for her bass.

"Fuck knows," replied Morgan. "Eliza? You have any idea?"

Eliza looked up quickly at the sound of her name being mentioned. "We could try that song Morgan and I made - _Fear of Dying_ ** _*_**?"

Adam nodded in agreement and started hitting random beats on the toms.

"You two ready?" asked the leader. Eliza shook her head. "Five seconds, just gotta get this sound just right... yep!"

Lewis played a few strings and nodded too.

Perfectionism was a pain when that's all you can think about. These things cannot solve themselves.

Adam started with his drums with her, Eliza and Lewis coming in shortly after.

_"I'm not afraid of standing still, I'm just afraid of being bored. I'm not afraid of speaking my mind, I'm just afraid of being ignored."_

The music changed her. Seconds later she dominated the stage and was thrashing around with her guitar.

_"I'm not afraid of feeling and I'm not afraid of trying. I'm just afraid of losing and I am afraid of dying!"_

They got through the song just as the finished, Adam piped up.

"Hey guys, I've got news. I've got a friend called Krist, he invited us to this small gig he and his band are playing. They asked if we want to do a set with them. I said yes, obviously, because this would be fucking awesome if we did."

Morgan's eyes widened. "Holy fuck! _Fuck_!! ... Wow... God. My- mate, I'm at a loss for words. When was this? Today?"

"Yes."

She tried to steady her breathing. "Okay, we're gonna play My Cat ***** because I love that song and its satirical as fuck, Super Sadist ***** and a cover of Love Song by The Cure."

This was going to be a highlight for many reasons. That gig was also Kurt's gig. The one Shelli invited her to, Krist organised an invite to give to Adam so Mor could tag along see Kurt play, and vice versa.

But Morgan didn't know that.

Not until later.

*

*** This song is originally written by Jack Off Jill. Pieces Apart will "write" mainly Jack Off Jill songs, and any other songs I choose. I do not own any songs, lyrics etc by Jack Off Jill, nor do I claim to. This is just some reference and some fanfiction fun. Enjoy ***


	4. comfort in a shroud of discomfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw/ sexual assault, rape mention. please take care with these topics if they trigger you.

Lights. Noise. Music.

The host house was big.

Morgan simply stared in awe for a few seconds before being nudged by Shelli to get out of the car. Shelli tagged along with Mor and her band and agreed to help set them up too. Each member took their belongings into outstretched arms and walked towards the door, going deep inside the rather large house. Mor was quieter than usual.

She'd never felt like this before. Unnerved and intrigued.

Shelli gave her a quick hug and a comforting rub on the shoulder as she ushered Mor inside and locked the car.

"I'm off to find Krist," shouted the petite brunette over the noise of hard rock thumping through the floor and bounced off and away to find her huge, gangly boyfriend amongst the swarm of unfamiliar faces.

Alone again. A-fucking-gain. This time with a guitar case hanging off her shoulder and feeling of being abandoned. The girl shrugged it off and went towards the living room where a stage was set up and found Lewis.

"Lewis!" yelled Mor. The lead guitarist whipped his head around at his name being called loudly.

"Oh, sup! I put my guitar there - go put yours next to it!" he called back. Mor dumped the case into the corner and met back up with him.

"You alright?" she asked in an off-hand manner.

"Yeah, You? You excited about our set? According to Adam, we're on in around an hour and a half," he replied.

"I'm fine. You got any ket?" spoke Mor.

Lewis stuttered slightly. "Er, yeah sure." He handed her a small bag, and began talking to a wall about God knows what. Morgan, ignoring him completely, pocketing the ketamine and stared at Kurt.

His eyes met hers.

Tension.

Sex.

Drugs.

Lewis smiled, patting her on the shoulder and pulled her in for a side hug, before letting her go.

Morgan had to kill time.

She sauntered away from Lewis, smirking at Kurt, to which he blushed.

The lack of drugs were astounding. Wandering around the house for a while with a beer in hand, scouring the ground floor, only to find nothing of interest. Taking a swig for bravery, she shuffled upstairs with heavy feet, eventually standing on the landing and taking peaks into rooms.

Standard upper floor layout.

Boring.

Another chug of beer was swallowed as she turned around to head downstairs again. But some sleaze bag was walking up the stairs, blocking her only escape. Mor stood still and said nothing and waited for him to move out of the way. He didn't. Instead, he smirked and eyed her up and down.

"You look hot," he slurred, stumbling over to her, and putting an arm between her and a wall.

She said nothing. Mor attempted, rather poorly to get away by shoving him, but the man was quite strong. Her heart started to pound – a fight or flight signal was sent shooting throughout her body. This can't be happening again.

 _'Fuck, fuck, FUCK!'_ she thought.

"Hey baby, don't be a runaway prude, heh?" he sneered as he got a finger and started tracing up and down her torso, from thigh to collar bone, over her breast.

Morgan said nothing, her chest heaving. A shove, but to no avail. He grabbed her by the neck and slammed her back straight into the wall again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you..." he smiled psychotically.

Mor's eyes glazed over in fear as she stood stock still from shock and panic. A lonesome tear trickled from her eye and fell off her cheek.

"Oh, baby girl, don't cry," he laughed and grabbed her face in his hands roughly. He noticed the drink in her hand and snatched it off her, taking a huge gulp and adding a small pill from his pocket.

"Drink up doll-face," he said, shoving the bottle into her chest.

"No," she spoke in a small voice.

"Drink. It. Now," enunciated the man, shoving the bottle deeper into her chest, grazing over it as he did so.

She was about to tentatively take the bottle before a voice shouted behind the man.

"Hey! Fuckwit! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" it shouted.

The drunkard turned around groggily, with his hand still around Mor's neck but taking the beer bottle off her chest, relieving some pressure. She let out a strained gasp as she recognised the man standing behind the freak.

 _Kurt_.

She stared at him with wide eyes.

He turned to face Kurt whose hands were balled up in fists and smiled nastily. "We don't need your help, we're good."

Kurt seethed. "No the fuck you aren't."

He swung out of nowhere and punched the drunkard in the face.

Two hits. A hook to the jaw and the thud of the body hitting the floor.

The pressure left her. But something much worse lingered.

Shame.

The girl let out a cracked sob. Kurt's attention turned to Mor after he heard a cry come out of her mouth. He spat on the unconscious body and walked forward to Mor.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked quietly as he put a hand to her cheek. Morgan looked straight up at him with teary eyes before scrunching up her entire face and crying loudly. He pulled her gently towards his body and held his arms around her lightly. She sobbed and sobbed, tears rolling down her face, ruining her makeup. She snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him in tightly, holding on for dear life as if he might run away. Kurt's heart softened inside and held her closer to him, rocking gently and squeezing her tight, and with his thumb moving up and down, rubbing her shoulder. He rested his head on top of hers and hummed a soft tune. Morgan's sobbing eventually subsided.

She pulled away slightly to look up at him and gently pushed a lock of blond hair behind his ear. "Thank you," she smiled weakly. He smiled sadly and pulled her in again.

"Kurt?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"D'you wanna go outside and smoke?"

"Sure," he murmured.

*

The porch was dark and cold, save for one weak light illuminating the dingy backdoor. Cigarettes were lit in hand, puffs of smoke escaped their lips occasionally. From the moment the pair sat down, Kurt had his arm wrapped around Morgan's shoulders, pulling her close into his body, with her head resting on his shoulder. Comfortable silence filled the smoke ridden air around them.

"Kurt?"

"Mh?"

"That wasn't the first time that happened."

He stopped staring into space and turned to look at her with a hurt and upset look.

"It's not?"

Mor shook her head in response.

"It shouldn't happen, period. Some men are just so disgusting towards women just because they're the opposite sex and nothing more – they aren't eye candy. It makes me sick. I'm so sorry," mumbled Kurt.

He leaned forward and kissed her temple.

Mor smiled briefly at the close contact. "If I told you my story, it wouldn't change your view of me, would it?"

"Never in the world," he smiled reassuringly.

Morgan took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"It first happened when I was 15. I was with my boyfriend at the time. I was in his room and I was sitting on the bed. He started to touch my thigh and I shoved him off. He slapped me and then started feeling all around my body, and I just remember feeling... so _used_. I managed to kick him off - I ran down the road as fast as possible - he didn't follow me. I went home and cried for hours. I felt like _shit_. I felt that it was my fault, for some reason. So, I started to self-harm a lot more because of that incident. I started when I was 13 because I was bullied at school, and people just took the piss out of me – I just felt so worthless, y'know? I didn't know what to do with myself."

"A couple years down the road when I was 18, I was with another boyfriend, and we were both drunk, and he wanted to have sex, but I just wanted to go to sleep. He insisted – I still didn't oblige. He said if I didn't have sex with him, he would hurt me. I got scared and hid inside a cupboard. He found me around 15 minutes later and dragged me by the wrist to the bedroom, tied my hands together and..." she choked momentarily. "... _raped me_."

Tears began to stream down her face.

Kurt couldn't comprehend something so appalling had happened to someone so loveable. Her goodwill and her softness, some of her best traits, led her to be manipulated. He said nothing and took her into his lap and hugged her tightly. She sobbed into his flannel, scrunching the back of his shirt in her hands to hold on to him. He stroked her hair and brushed a strand behind her ear.

"Hey, shhh, listen to me. You are not worthless, you are still such a beautiful presence in this world, and it kills me to think you hurt yourself over something that wasn't your fault. I want to promise you something – I will never, _ever_ , let someone hurt you, ever again. I will be there. I want to comfort you when you feel sad, and bandage your wounds, and kiss your head and tuck you into your bed. I can't let that happen to you, not again. I don't care if something happens to me, as long as you're okay."

Morgan's sobs settled as she looked up at him and stared deep into his eyes. A flicker of a smile played on her lips as she exhaled shakily.

" _Thank you_."

The pair stand up and hug, and rain began to drizzle and they stepped under the small porch roof and stared at each other for a long while. Mor leaned in closer, staring at his mouth, and was about to kiss Kurt, when...

The back door burst open. It was Lewis.

"Morgan, what the fuck? We're supposed to go on right now!" he panicked. His features crossed as he drank in Morgans face. "What happened."

"Hey, dude, lay off of her. Something shit just happened to her – if you'd have any respect you'd ask her if she's okay."

Lewis shrugged his shoulders. "Geez, sorry. Hope you're okay Mor, but we gotta go, _now_."

She looked apologetically back at Kurt before kissing his cheek. "I'll see you straight after my set."

Ben raised his eyebrows in annoyance and then ran off towards the living room, with Mor shuffling behind. She sees a group of people doing cocaine – so she bends down, snorts a line and shakes her head back.

Confidence surged through her again.

Morgan was back.

"Hey, dude, lay off of her. Something shit just happened to her – if you'd have any respect you'd ask her if she's okay."

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "Geez, sorry. Hope you're okay Mor, but we gotta go, _now_."

She looked apologetically back at Kurt before kissing his cheek. "I'll see you straight after my set."

Ben raised his eyebrows in annoyance and then ran off towards the living room, with Mor shuffling behind. She sees a group of people doing cocaine – so she bends down, snorts a line and shakes her head back. Sudden buzz was running through her body as she ran to the stage, grabbing her guitar and throwing it on her shoulders.


End file.
